Remember the Name
by Pine-bundles
Summary: Catching Fire to Post Mockingjay. Eventual Joniss.
1. Chapter 1

Twenty four went in and twenty four came out, scarred and broken. Twenty three in caskets, one on her own two feet. She made it out alive, but she was already dead and decaying, her soul stripped away. Her heart was hollow and her body was cold and lifeless with the ice that flowed through her veins.

They thought it was a strategy, that she was pretending to be weak, but an act it was not. She had gone into the games with a craving, a raw desire to win and a thirst for victory; to come back to all of the riches and promises. Instead she came back to no one waiting for her at the train station. No one to welcome her back. They hated her, her family. She was a monster, a villain – a victor. She came back wishing _she_ was the one in the casket, one of the twenty three.

But in all of this doubt, all of these troubles, there was one thing for certain, one thing that never would falter, they'd remember her name. _Mason_.


	2. Chapter 2

Her eyelids parted groggily, thing began to blur into unfocused clarity around her. A dull throb grew stronger, a sharp relentless pain drumming an un-faltering rhythm behind her eyes. Struggling to sit up, a muted crash sounded as a bottle collided with the dirty hardwood floor of her home. _Home._ That was a start.

She began to slowly recollect facts of the previous night, or whenever she had been awake last. Pushing her blankets off of her with heavy, unresponsive limbs, she struggled to sit up. The smell of pine and stale alcohol burned in her nose as she stumbled forward on weak knees in the direction of painkillers.

Fragments of memory were coming together in her mind like an impossible jigsaw puzzle, recollection fighting to break away from her muddled mind. Cursing in annoyance from pain and lack of progress, she allowed her thinking to stall for a moment as she shook a few tablets into her clammy palm before she swallowed them dry. Dry. Everything seemed dry; her mouth was a desert, her skin parched.

So, with that in mind, she struggled toward the bathroom. Stripping off what clothing she had on, she threw the door open with her hip, sending the knob crashing into the wall behind it. Pressing the button that activated the shower's spigot, she climbed in, the frigid water immediately greeting her, drops cascading over her skin, almost instantaneously seizing her from her daze and the after-effects of alcohol.

The memories were starting to flood back to her. Arena. Quarter Quell. Hunger Games. Victors. Back. She was going back.

Her knees gave out and gravity took over, she collapsed to the bathroom floor. Holding her head in her palms, her dull fingernails bit into the tender skin on her face. She couldn't bring the tears to fall; she was not upset, she was not afraid. She was angry. Furious.

Forcing herself against her bodies will, she recovered, getting to her feet and slipping some dry clothes on. Her legs carried her to the kitchen unconsciously, her hand met the neck of a bottle and she brought it to her lips without hesitation, relishing the bitter sting of alcohol as it swam down her throat. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she tipped back the final swig of her drink.

Before she even knew what was happening, the bottle was in fragments across the room. She knew she was accomplishing nothing, burning no rage off with this. But, in truth, the only thing that could douse her anger was embedding her axe into the government. As the only surviving victor of Seven, she was going back, no questions asked. She was going to die, and she had to face it.


	3. Chapter 3

She didn't dress up this time around; she probably wouldn't have put clothes on at all if it hadn't been for Blight. The two of them weren't close, but they were there for each other in times of need. They were each other's shoulder to cry on or extra hand when it was needed. They had this mutual unspoken respect, one that didn't allow "thank yous" to be spoken, one that all of the Victors had for one another. Had. After this, after these Games, it wouldn't be the same.

They called her name. It wasn't a surprise. She stood up and walked to the stage hastily, snarling and pushing off peace keepers who attempted to usher her away from the crowd. They drew the name for the males, the pool had a more vibrant selection but not by much, there were four of them in total, three of them from some of the earliest Games. She watched as the gloved hand danced around the bowl and winced when the name was announced, it was Blight. With a grimace etched deeply into her expression, a look passed between the two victors, so many things swimming in their eyes. Fear, anger, hope, brutality. There was no hunger, no thirst or desire to win this time, she was open to her fate, and she was ready to die.

Within the first thirty seconds after their names were announced for the second time she was half-dragged, half-pushed onto a train. All of it felt like a dream. She was supposed to live the rest of her life in peace, supposed to be free because she killed eight kids, because she killed people's sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, and friends. The atmosphere on the train had a dream-like haziness that put a sour flavor in her mouth. She wished it was a dream, wished that she could force her eyes open and that it would all be over.

* * *

She woke up screaming, and scrambling backwards, throwing punches in a colorful variety of different directions until she felt her knuckles collide against something solid and sturdy. Blight's face. Clarity sharpened her vision in no time, her eyes greeted by a shocked expression etched into her district mate's face.

"Dammit, Blight, what are you doing in here?" she asked, her voice hoarse from the fitful screaming of her slumber.

"We're here," he responded simply, pivoting on his heel and strolling out as if nothing had happened. _Where? _The question was on the tip of her tongue. Then, for the second time that day, it all came rushing back to her. Her brain was always fuzzy when she woke, her thoughts always muddled. But, come to think of it, she hadn't remembered ever falling asleep on the train.

With that in mind, she traced her fellow Victor's steps with her own, only stopping to wait for the automatic doors to open, emitting the mechanical hum as they overlapped to let her through. She wondered if one day, like humans, they would cease to open, refuse to let anyone pass. Yet, she knew if they did someone would come to repair them. It did not work that way for the people of the Districts, when they were broken and worthless and scared there was no way to fix them, their souls simply evaporated, everything they had worked for throughout their life. Gone. Just like that.

Blight stopped at the door that acted as a barrier between the train and the Capitol, and she did the same. His neck swiveling so his eyes were capable of making eye contact he asked, "You ready?"

She exhaled, it was an unanswerable question that no one was ever ready for, or what pursued, so after a moment's pause she replied, "As I'll ever be." They stepped over the border in perfect synchronization, their feet landing together. Everything felt fake. The air, heavy with pollution, felt artificial. The chants of her own name hung in the air like the smog that blanketed the city, but one was unique from the rest, a smooth sing-song that cradled her. "Jo! Johanna!"

"Finnick!" her voice rand out giddily, chasing in the direction his came from, sliding agilely through spaces between people. When she arrived at her destination she let his arms envelope her. "Long time no see asshole, would it have killed you to call?" she murmured against his chest. She could feel his smile.

When they untangled themselves, he gestured with his head toward the area she assumed was the training center. "Well, we've got a lot of catching up to do, then." She trailed him without hesitation, picking up her pace after a minute so they could walk beside one another. She could sense something was wrong, but she knew better than to ask, he'd explain soon enough.

* * *

It was a short walk from the station to the Center, when they arrived they took the stairs to the fourth floor. Either because Mags was good company, or because they didn't feel like hiking seven flights of stairs, she didn't know which one.

"We need to talk," Finnick stated as soon as the door closed behind him.

"Yeah, no shit," Johanna responded. "What's this about?

"I can't tell you here"

"Where, then?" she asked

"Roof," he whispered, pushing her through the door before adding "Tonight, after the chariots,"

Finnick wasn't a secretive person, he knew that the Capitol was watching them every second of every day, with exception of a couple blind spots, but it hadn't ever really stopped either of them from saying whatever was on their minds. Johanna could do it because they couldn't threaten her with anyone, Finnick because those he cared about were untouchable, because they were Victors. The Capitol hadn't ever threatened Victors up until the announcement of these Games. There were a couple exceptions, of course, blamed on accidents and what not, but that was mostly those who blatantly defied the Capitol and the Districts, the ones that even the Capitol citizens didn't mourn.

She knew something was going on and she wasn't about to pass up the chance to hear about it.

* * *

**A/N - I hope you really enjoyed this chapter, I'm sorry it took a while, I had a week jam-packed with exams and I knew I wanted to lengthen the chapters more, hopefully there will be longer ones still to come. If you've been following this fic so far, thank you so much, please feel free to leave a review I'd really like to hear what you have to say. Thank you guys for reading, more updates soon to come.**


	4. Chapter 4

The day passed quickly and painlessly aside from the poking and prodding of her stylist (Who's name she had never bothered to actually learn, but typically referred to with derogatory names and phrases.) and her prep team. Finnick, who had been waiting for her, looked her up and down when she approached him. "Trees? I would have never guessed," he said with the contours of an arrogant grin plastered on his face.

"Keep talking, I'll give you a pretty nasty splinter," she responded. He lifted his hands in mock surrender and took a couple steps back. "That's what I thought." She said with a grin, but something behind her had captured his attention. Furrowing her brows in confusion, she turned to see what had him so preoccupied. When she saw what it was, or _who_, rather, she was confident that her jaw collided with the ground. She had no idea who it was that she was looking at, the girl was strikingly beautiful, make-up and her costume highlighting her already stunning features, she found herself staring.

"You look hypnotized, Jo." Commented Finnick, she'd barely heard what he'd said through her churning thoughts.

"Who is that?" she queried, this brought Finnick's eyes immediately to her, un-filtered shock displaying on his face.

"Johanna, that's only the most talked about lady in the entire country." She shook her head in confusion, still not allowing her eyes pry away from the girl, who seemed uncomfortable with the amount of eyes on her. "That's the Victor of the 74th, from 12," he added, still without a voiced response from Johanna. "Katniss Everdeen?" he tried, that seemed to spark some recognition in the girl.

"The berry girl?" she asked, wracking her brain for recollection of the most recent Games. She remembered one of the most defiant acts she had witnessed since Haymitch's small act of rebellion against the Capitol, which she hardly remembered. She took a moment to wonder what it was that was in the water in 12, what made their Victors so gutsy.

"Yeah, the berry girl," he responded, obvious amusement playing on his features. "You should go talk to her," he offered.

"_You_ should go talk to her," she fired back almost instantaneously.

"Okay." He shrugged and stalked away, snatching a couple sugar cubes from a stranger and tossing them into his mouth on the way, leaving her to sulk in her own thoughts.

* * *

She exhaled as her feet met the cement terrain, giving Blight a small wave before walking in the direction of 4's chariot.

"How was she?" it was the first question that escaped from her lips, he threw her an amused look.

"Surprisingly," he paused, grinning, before adding "a lot like you, you'll probably hate her." She rolled her eyes and gave him a disapproving glance; this seemed to entertain him even more. "Might be able to catch her now, if you hurry," he told her, gesturing toward the trio of 12's Victors. Seeing this as a window of opportunity that could not be passed up on, she started toward the elevator they were entering. "Don't forget, roof!" Finnick called after her. She took mental note of that before picking up her brisk pace to an almost-jog.

She slid through the closing elevator doors with no room to spare, the muted _thud _of her head piece hitting the floor masked by the closing of the doors. Glancing up, she was greeted by the eyes of the two most recent Victors (and Haymitch) assessing her. She assumed they were trying to place her, determine what Games she had won. This made her feel strangely self-conscious, an emotion that she very rarely was exposed to, she finger-combed her hair absentmindedly before unbuckling her bracelets. "Horrible, isn't it?" she scoffed, gesturing toward her lumber-themed costume. "My stylist, biggest idiot in the Capitol," she groaned "Trees, always trees. I'd love to put my axe in her face," she added, probably over-emphasizing the last part. Pausing for a moment, she noted that she didn't have a strong hold on their attention. "You guys look stunning," she complimented, feeling out of character the moment she had said it.

An improvised response came from Katniss, who probably hadn't been paying any sort of attention since she'd slid into the elevator. "Yeah, Cinna's great, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet."

"I have," she replied, struggling to suppress a grin, "That dress you wore to 2. So gorgeous I wanted to rip it right off of you back," this seemed to make the girl squirm, which please Johanna, given that was exactly the response she was aiming for.

Throughout the rest of the ascent, she let the silence brew as she slid out of the rest of her dress, heaving a content sigh when she was finally free of the constricting material. As the elevator emitted the cliché _ding, _she threw a wink at the Victors and slipped back through the doors, offering a farewell of, "Thanks, let's do it again sometime," stalling outside the closing doors just long enough to hear Haymitch introduce her as "Johanna Mason, District 7."

She grinned, knowing that the girl wouldn't forget her name any time soon and strolled back to her room.

* * *

When she pried open the door to the room assigned to 7's Victors, she was met with the slack-jawed (and bruised) face of Blight. She didn't know why he was so surprised to see her without a stitch, it wasn't like it was a rare occurrence. He opened his mouth to say something but she interjected with a dismissive wave of her hand accompanied by "don't ask." She made her way to the kitchen and opened a bottle of liquid, tipping some of its contents into her mouth, but the beverage was almost immediately taken from her hands.

"You're not going to be hung over for training," he paused before adding "or interviews." She glared at him in response before sulking into the next room to pull on clothing and wash the heavily-applied make up off of her face.

Entering back into the main room, she sunk into the plush couch next to her District partner. "Hey, what's up with this Everdeen chick?" she asked, trying to force an opinion out of someone other than her District 4 companion for once. Blight shot her a puzzled look.

"Other than being the most recent Victor and the only person to defy the Capitol recently, nothing special as far as I know." He paused, trying to recollect more details. "She's also a Capitol sweetheart because of what she did to save lover boy."

"Lover boy?" she questioned, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"Her District partner in the Games, I don't buy the whole star-crossed lovers thing, though, not from her anyway." That brought the beginnings of a smile to her lips, Blight noticed this, and opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, obliging to the un-spoken rule that forbid either of them to intrude on each others business.

Sensing his tenseness, she changed the subject, "What happened to your face?" she teased, making her way to the door. He responded with a stiff middle finger, and a light smile. "I'm going to see Finnick, I'll be back later." She informed him, and with that, she made her way to the stairwell.

* * *

**A/N - First of all, thank you so much for the favorites and reviews, you're all truly amazing, thanks for sticking around so far. This one's a tad bit longer than the last, I originally planned to include a little bit more than I posted, but this was as far as my mind could take me. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me what you have to think. Stay tuned for more updates. (:**


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